Into the Storm
by jacosh neko
Summary: Jimmy works hard all day, but for what?
1. Into the Storm

Jimmy's hands slipped and strained on the wet ropes as he struggled against the wind to pull in the rigging. Rain streamed into his eyes as he worked, blurring his vision and forcing him to blink, and he hastily swept the back of his wrist over his forehead to push his sopping hair out of the way. Giving the rope one last tug, he smiled into the storm as the ropes finally began to gather in, quickly lashing the fly down and pulling the last of the rigging down with it.

The storm had come upon them suddenly, not quiet two days offshore of New York. Jimmy had been eavesdropping again, not his intention of course, and over the last few weeks at sea, had overheard the plans to pull back into the New York harbour. He couldn't be sure why, he hadn't caught enough of the plans to be able to tell any reasoning behind the act, but he had been startled to learn of the Captain's change of heart. He had thought that for sure, like himself, Captain Englehorn would want to distance himself from the wracking experience on Skull Island, and the memories of the good men they'd lost. Thinking back on it still hurt, like a dull ache in the chest, and Jimmy wrapped his arms around himself as a sudden shiver wracked his body, sending a tremor up his spine and gooseflesh down his arms to the tips of his fingers.

Slipping below deck and slamming the door against the wail of the wind and the pounding of the storm's slowly abating rain, Jimmy pulled his hat off his head, marvelling for a moment at how it had managed to stay on throughout the entire day, atrocious weather in account. Shaking himself of the excess water and pulling his sopping, dirty shirt over his head, Jimmy laid it out as carefully as possible over top of an old trunk, hoping, as he crossed the small belly of the ship to his cot, that it would dry by morning.

Sighing as he unconsciously reached for the book laying on the small table pushed up against a wall, Jimmy changed his mind, deciding mid-reach that he was too tired, and opting instead for flinging himself down onto his cot, an unnerving _ creak _ sounding the bed's apparent disapproval of the action. Stretching out like a cat and pulling an old, threadbare, slightly itchy wool blanket over his chest and waist, Jimmy rolled first onto his left side, then his right, finally flopping back down again onto his back.

It had been months, probably almost a year since Jimmy had been able to get a proper night's sleep. Working aboard the S.S. Venture demanded it; the days were taxing and difficult, though Jimmy didn't mind the hard work; it took his mind off other things. Other things like how lonely the belly of the ship had become, without the constant comfort he had grown so used to. Things like how cold the nights were becoming, though he knew the climate had not changed, and how the days seemed to lack the same luster they had held for him a year before. Things like the way it had felt when Jack had held him as he cried, and how embarrassed he had been at his tears.

Jimmy rolled once more onto his right side, feeling sleep beginning to edge in around the corners of his mind, carrying him thankfully off into the bliss of sleep, where only his dreams could be found at fault.


	2. Onto the Docks

It had been two days.

Two days with nights full of bad sleep, if you could even call it that, two days of wet clothes and backbreaking work, two days of the rolling, quasi-temperamental sea, but Jimmy was used to it all. So when his feet touched hard, dry, unmoving ground for the first time in over three months, Jimmy felt quite the stranger to it.

Stepping off the ramp and onto the worn decks of the New York City harbour, he let out a breath as if in relief, and uneasily scratched the back of his neck as if in answer to the itching, laboriously repressed memories that threatened to surface. Paranoia stealing in on him, he glanced behind him again towards the ship, taking in the shadows of the small crew moving about on board, tying up and locking down for the night instead of unloading their hold for the docks to take inventory.

They had arrived later then they had meant too; the sun was almost gone from the sky, creeping it's way slowly back beyond the line of the sea, and Jimmy felt he would like more then anything else to follow suit, to creep back beyond the waves and disappear. It was the end of the second day after the first storms began, and in retrospect, Jimmy thought that maybe they had made decent time after all, weather and plaguing conditions taken into account.

That was one thing Jimmy could do well and he knew it; read the sea. He could tell how long a storm was going to be when it was still a few hours off, could tell how hard the rain would fall and when the wind would switch directions. Jimmy wasn't much one for pride; he didn't compliment himself on anything and didn't feel like he was any better at anything else then anyone aboard the ship at one time. But reading the sea was the one thing he took pride in.

But now the winds had died and the rain had stopped; not a ripple in the stillness of the evening. He could feel it pressing down on him, making him jumpy and tense, the feeling of non-existent electricity thick on the air. Jimmy could still smell the faint hint of rain, and from the lingering dampness of the deck, he was safe to assume that there had been foul weather here, too.

Side-stepping quickly out of the way as a sailor off another vessel passed, carrying a large crate crammed full of what appeared to be spiny, ill-temper lobsters, Jimmy ran his fingers through his hair to loose some of the grit, replaced his hat, and momentarily wondered where he could find someplace to bathe. From the looks of it, the farther away from the port you got, the busier the streets became, and Jimmy knew that he had no idea where he was going to go once he got out of sight of the S.S. Venture.

He supposed he knew who he had to find, though the name didn't seem to want to surface, dancing around in the back of his head with such arrogance that Jimmy finally decided to ignore it all together. Besides, the city was huge, and Jimmy didn't even know if he lived here anymore; probably not anyway, people move and things change, and Jimmy was damned if he would count on anything being the same anymore.

Quickly scanning the upper deck once more for Englehorn, who he assumed would be looking for him right about now, needing something moved or put away, a rope tied or a sail drawn it, Jimmy slipped behind a precariously balanced pile of crates, presumable left behind by the last ship to dock in their port, and slipped into the gathering night, his footsteps echoing lonesomely off the surrounding galleys.

--

Englehorn watched in still silence as the inconspicuous shadow made it's way across and away from the docks, his eyebrows lowering subconsciously in acceptance, the expression laced with slight annoyance.

Hayes would have been able to stop the boy, once. A gentle hand on the arm, a guiding jerk to the wrist, and Jimmy would have been pulled back on course; back into what he knew. The city would scare him; the lights, the sounds, the people. New York was no place for someone to be alone, even more so a somebody like Jimmy. But the boy was stubborn, and would not admit to his fears, and Englehorn knew he'd press on towards whatever futile goal he was trying so desperately to accomplish out there in a world he knew nothing about. There was no point in stopping him; it would be like caging an animal, something that the boy had already been subjected to for too long.

Captain Englehorn had never had that same control with Jimmy as the kid's African mentor, more of a second father then anything else; when he couldn't get the annoyingly stubborn stowaway to do what he asked, to follow a certain order, it was always Hayes he called for to get the job done.

Sometimes, even after all the chiding and threats made in thickly veiled caution, Jimmy would still refuse the order, lips pursed and his strong jaw set, hands balled halfway into fists in silent defiance. Then Hayes would sigh and nod his head, waving a passive gesture at Englehorn before departing to do whatever task or chore Jimmy had decidedly refused. Then sure enough, as soon as Hayes was out of sight, Jimmy would relax, a strange sadness passing over his face as he rubbed at the dirt smears that always covered his cheeks while aboard a long voyage. It was like the defiance was a part of his nature that he hated, but couldn't help. The Captain was hard pressed to think of a time when after one of these confrontations, Jimmy did not go straight up to the deck to ask after the crew's jobs, often taking work away from others to have something to do himself.

Before, Jimmy had been easy to deal with in the long run; at least the boy was always doing something. But now Hayes had passed on, regretful as it was, and Englehorn knew he could no longer control him.


End file.
